My Hero
by Blese
Summary: Loki Odinson was never at the mercy of anyone. It would really save him so much trouble if people actually knew that. Part of a series, main paring is Steve/Loki.


Loki was tall and almost intimidating for his age, just a little over eight years old, but that didn't stop him from getting picked on. No one liked it when he made them look dumber than they really were, no one liked it when the teacher kept quiet when he made fun of them because he was _so much sweeter and brighter' _and that they should pay more attention to what _Loki_ said, no one liked how Loki skipped _two _grades and no one liked it when all Thor would talk about was _Loki _and how _perfect_ his little brother was, so it really didn't come off as a surprise when a group of sixth graders cornered him in the playground and shoved him to the ground. Loki looked up at his attackers with bewilderment. They had picked the perfect day to go for him; Thor, the only person that willingly hung around Loki, was down with a high fever, potentially leaving his younger brother at the mercy of anyone that might have decided it was time to get revenge for all and any humiliation suffered at the hands of the younger Odinson.

Luckily for Loki, he was never, ever, at the mercy of anyone (except grown-ups) and the only logical explanation for the shock on his face was that he thought people _knew _not to mess with him, but then he remembered the promise he had made to mama, _no getting into fights, _and sneered. It wasn't his fault if they had started first, was it?

Loki was prepared to stand up any moment, dust himself off, and punch one of the older boys in the face. They were all taller than him, stronger and older, but he knew he could damage their egos somewhat; maybe he could get one to cry. He braced himself against the wall, ready to stand up, when he heard a voice call out.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?"

It wasn't the authoritative voice of a teacher, nor the voice of his elder brother, but one belonging to a ghost. Loki furrowed his brow in confusion.

On closer inspection, it was a boy, but he was small and thin, his blond hair parted neatly to the right, a toy shield held firmly in his right hand and all Loki could think was _pathetic _and _don't complicate this. _But the newcomer had a spark of determination in his eyes, he glared at the group huddled around Loki with all the confidence of a true warrior and Loki shook his head when he noticed that it was Thor's job to compare people to knights and princes, Loki had to stay rational and be an anchor to reality, for his older brother's more imaginative trains of thought were getting old, and so was Thor, now that he thought about it.

"Stay out of this, Rogers!" Yelled one of the taller boys, _Damien_, Loki thought. He had heard of him vaguely. "This is between us," he gestured to the group, then jabbed a finger at Loki, "…and the creep!"

A chorus of 'yeah's and 'he's right's erupted from the pack of rabid children position around Loki, and the younger boy couldn't help but roll his eyes when the newcomer steeled himself and slammed his toy shield into Damien's face.

A fight had erupted, but Loki and the boy had won. It turned out that his name was Steve Rogers, that he was in Thor's class and that the other tall boy with the black hair was named Daken, not Damien.

"My mom's gonna be so mad when she hears about this…" Steve mumbled, but he was smiling and so was Loki, both of them sitting outside the infirmary. They compared their tragically different states, Steve was bruised and one of his arms was broken while Loki barely had a smudge of mud on his trainers. Steve's shield had been confiscated while Loki's carefully concealed weapon, a plastic Raven, had dealt the most damage and was still safely nestled in his jacket pocket. They had both laughed about it, and Loki gave Steve his jacket, which was still too big despite the age gap.

"But," Steve had started after they had settled down and Loki could hear his father's footsteps down the hall, "I guess it's good that I'm the one that took all the hits, right?" Loki looked at him quizzically. Steve blushed and fumbled with the edge of his jacket, and Loki smiled softly. His father was in sight now; Loki was going to go home soon.

"I mean, you're really pretty and stuff," the older boy managed to mumble, "i-in a good way!"

Loki giggled and patted Steve on the head before standing up.

"My hero." Loki declared with a beaming smile before walking off to go and meet his father. Today had been a good day.


End file.
